


Sickly

by belivaird_st



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Therese catches a summer cold.
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Kudos: 41





	Sickly

Therese listens to the door creak open and she peers below the covers to find Rindy’s profile peeking through. Stifling a ragged cough, she props herself to sit up with a pink runny nose and bleary eyes.

“C’mere, I see you, Rindy,” she speaks with her voice hoarse and congested. Therese sniffles with a summer cold sickness as she watches the bedroom door swing open with the child standing there wearing a light blue jumper with yellow duckies on the side pockets. Rindy averts her blue eyes, looking rather bashful for the envasion. 

“We’ve made a plate for you, downstairs,” she says quietly.

“Thank you, but I’ll eat later,” Therese tells her and starts sliding herself to lie back down. She rests her aching head back on the pillows with her burning eyes closing shut.

Rindy bolts out of the room.

In the kitchen, Carol feels Rindy bump into the rear end of her olive dress just as she’s putting clean dishes on the drying rack. Peering around, the girl clings onto her, peering up.

“She doesn’t want to eat!” 

“Therese not hungry?”

“No...”

Carol tousles Rindy’s light brown hair and sighs. It’s been the second night Therese refused to eat dinner. Carol decides to put the plate in the fridge for leftovers. She boils water on the stove top and makes a cup of peppermint tea. 

Back upstairs, Therese tosses and turns in bed with a mountain of crumpled tissues spilling on the floor. She hears the door creak open again with Carol coming through with a steaming mug. Therese rests her head below pillows with the blankets thrown over on top. Carol sets the tea on the lamp table with both hands pulling the blankets down.

“Where, oh where, is my fallen, sick angel?” she cooes.

“Don’t come any closer,” Therese wheezed out.

“I’ve made you some tea, since you won’t bother eating your dinner,” Carol spoke gently. “I’ll go take your temperature again...” she pulls away to go leave.

Therese quickly snatches one of the pillows to bury her face in. Her tea remains on the tabletop, untouched.


End file.
